A Better Liar
by AmazingSoulWeasel
Summary: A series of drabbles about Hawke and his relationships with his companions. M!Hawke/Fenris, implied M!Hawke/Anders. Contains mild spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

Hawke manor was silent, save the crackling of the fireplace beside the bed. Two men lay spawled unashamedly naked amongst the sheets, the warmth from the fire and their recent activities making it next to impossible to lie beneath the blankets. They were the Champion of Kirkwall and his lover, an elf recently freed from slavery, both in the literal and metaphorical sense.

However, the latter had something new on his mind and while it was not nearly as grave a matter as Danarius had been, it worried him all the same.

"You do realise that when Anders said, 'someone more open-minded,' he was talking about himself?" Fenris murmured thoughtfully as he lay settled amongst the pillows, Hawke nestled comfortably against his side. The pause that followed was a loaded one, and Fenris' muscles tautened as a sense of nervousness washed over him. "Three years is a long time. Did something happen between you and him?"

Hawke lifted his head slowly and rolled onto his stomach, his body stretched out across Fenris's. He was heavy, but he supported his weight on his own arms well enough that he didn't crush the elf beneath him. "Define 'something'," he said, squinting down at Fenris.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"No." Hawke shook his head quickly, but Fenris didn't miss the fleeting wistful look that passed over his face. "Anders and I... look, I'll admit it. There was... something there but I never acted on it. I might have done, maybe, but Anders is-"

"Possessed?" Fenris cut in, trying to keep the spiteful tone out of his voice for Hawke's sake and failing anyway.

Hawke sighed and gave Fenris a withering look of disapproval. "No," he said, pushing himself off of Fenris and shifting to sit cross-legged beside him. "He's... sweet." Fenris propped himself up on his elbows and raised his eyebrow at Hawke. "He is! I know when he's ranting on about mages and how persecuted we are, he can seem a little..."

"I could offer a dozen endings to that sentence, but I have the strangest feeling like you wouldn't appreciate any of them."

"No, I probably wouldn't," Hawke agreed, folding his hands in his lap and sighing. "The point is, after that night you left, I got closer to him. It was easier with him than with you. I suppose it helped that we're both mages - we bonded over our shared contempt for the templars. Our friendship- we-" He cut off and ran a hand back through his hair roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. "He smiled so easily when we were together. Given everything he's going through, everything he's fighting against... the fact I could make him smile like that-"

Fenris sat up, pulling the sheets over his lap before he spoke. "If you two were that close, why aren't you with him now?" he asked, glowering at the fireplace.

"I was falling in love with him, Fenris," Hawke replied softly, his gaze fixed on his lover's face. "But- I was already in love with you." Fenris' gaze dropped to the sheets and his expression wavered. "I wasn't sure if anything would happen between us again - I tried talking to you so many times about that night but you always refused to discuss it. Honestly, its probably just as well you did. If you'd told me that nothing was ever going to happen between us again, I would have gone to Anders. But... because everything between us remained unresolved, I was afraid to get involved with Anders on the off chance that one day you'd tell me that what happened between us three years ago had meant something to you too."

He reached out and caught Fenris's chin gently, turning his head towards him. Fenris kept his eyes lowered for a moment, his nose scrunched up like it did when he was irritated - a surprisingly adorable expression that Hawke often went out of his way to earn - before finally giving in and looking up at Hawke. "Why? What would have happened if you had been with Anders when I had come to you?"

"I wouldn't have been able to choose between the two of you. I probably would have lost you both."

Fenris frowned and lowered his gaze again, but this time he leaned forward, pressing his forehead aganist Hawke's. "At least you're honest."

Shrugging, Hawke gave an awkward little laugh. "Yeah, well, I'm an awful liar. What other choice do I have?"

"That is true," Fenris mused, raising his hand to trail his fingertips across Hawke's collarbone thoughtfully. "And what about now? What if Anders comes to you now that you're with me?"

Hawke hesitated long enough for Fenris to pull away from him, a look of confusion and hurt flooding his expression. Realising his mistake, Hawke shook his head slowly and touched Fenris' cheek. "I won't leave you, Fenris. I would never do that to you. Whatever feelings I might have for Anders... they are nothing compared to how I feel about you. I love you."

Fenris looked away, silent as he thought. Just as Hawke began to think the damage he had done was worse than he realised, however, Fenris turned back to him and in the same movement lunged forward to kiss him. It was fierce, and possessive and Hawke's surprise gave Fenris enough of an upperhand to push him back on the bed. As they curled around each other, clawing and biting and carressing, it occurred to Hawke that perhaps he was a better liar than he'd been led to believe.


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris hated watching Hawke fighting side by side with Anders.

As the only two mages in the usual merry band of misfits Hawke dragged around everywhere with him, they often stood back from the battle, supporting one another as Fenris fought to keep attention off of them and Varric. From time to time though, when there was a momentary lull in the frantic pace of battle, he'd glance over and see things that made his stomach twist.

Hawke protected Anders with the ferocity of a mabari, driving the blade end of his staff into the skulls of those who approached the healer with more force than the staff should really have been able to endure. He often told Fenris he didn't enjoy using his staff as a weapon in that manner, that he preferred to attack from a distance. Yet despite his knowledge of many spells that could easily push back those who approached, Hawke almost always resorted to physical attacks when Anders was threatened. Fenris would swear it was instinctual.

When Hawke was injured in his defense of Anders, as he often was, Anders would heal him. His hands would ghost across Hawke's frame, the inch or so between them alight with crisp blue arcs that danced across Hawke's body. For just a moment they would almost seem to be seperated from the rest of the battle in their own little peaceful world - before Hawke snapped out of it with a blaze of fire and Anders remembered he had a duty to Varric and Fenris as much as to Hawke.

Out-numbered as they often were, Anders would sometimes join Hawke on the offensive. Backed into a corner, the barage of spells they'd unleash was often painful to look at, and always dazzling. After six years, Fenris had grown used to the brightness of it and often used it to his advantage, attacking when their enemies were too stunned by the flashes of ice and fire to see him coming. But after six years, Fenris still wasn't used to how perfectly united Hawke and Anders were.

They moved perfectly together, their magic complimenting one another like they'd been born to be allies. Merrill said it was beautiful.

It made Fenris bitterly sick.

He'd long since come to terms with Hawke's use of magic, yes, but Anders... Anders was something else entirely. He was an abomination. That alone ruined any beauty that could be found in their synchronisity. Anders was the embodiment of everything Fenris hated - the man had already proven himself too weak - too trusting to deserve the freedom he sought for himself and the other mages. The mage would see the creation of a new Imperium, even if he wouldn't admit that his success would lead to such a thing.

Hawke was different. He was stronger than Anders and although he shared the same desires as the other mage, Fenris couldn't bring himself to believe he took it to the same extremes that Anders did. Hawke was controlled and sensible and not blinded by a demon's drive. Hawke was beautiful. In Fenris' eyes, Anders tainted him.

The bitterness never lasted though. At the end of every battle, when bodies lay strewn around them, as Varric petted Bianca lovingly and Fenris tiredly sheathed his blade, Hawke would leave Anders's side. He'd hurry to Fenris, checking him for wounds and asking him if he was alright. He mostly did it because he knew it irritated Fenris, but the concern was always genuine. "I'm fine, stop fussing," Fenris would say, making a half-hearted show of swatting Hawke away from him.

And at the end of every battle, Fenris always looked to Anders, would catch his gaze if he could and he would smile - an unpleasant little twist of his mouth. Anders never failed to understand the meaning behind it, and it never failed to anger him.

_Hawke is mine_, the smile said. _Just try and challenge my claim_.


	3. Chapter 3

A little fluff to offset the angst.

* * *

Letting himself into Fenris's mansion, Hawke teetered for a moment and looked around. The house wasn't the most delightful place at the best of times, but with cheap alcohol from the Hanged Man in his system, it was positively disturbing. Squinting at a particularly suspicious looking spider web, he swung the door shut behind him and it slammed into its frame hard enough to send echoes booming through the house. Wincing apologetically, despite no one being around to see it, Hawke sighed. At least Fenris would know he was coming.

With a quiet cough from all the dust flying about, Hawke trudged through the door into the main hall. Fenris was standing on the overlooking balcony at the top of the stairs, sword in hand, but when he saw who it was and the state he was in, he simply shook his head and sheathed his weapon again. "You look ridiculous when you stagger about like that," he said, folding his arms and watching Hawke's unsteady progress towards the stairs.

"Yes, well-" Hawke started, pausing at the bottom of the stairs to try and think of a suitable comeback. When nothing occurred to him, he sniffed irritably and just pointed at Fenris in an accusing manner. Ignoring the helplessly amused look on Fenris' face, he turned his attention back to the stairs and carefully clambered up to the first landing, swaying backwards only once before he made it to safety. "If you had come to the Hanged Man with me, like I told you to, you'd be just as drunk and- and you wouldn't be so offended by my... my..." He paused and peered up at Fenris quizzically. "What did you call me?

"Ridiculous," Fenris said helpfully. Hawke pointed some more, in agreement this time. "I didn't want to go to the Hanged Man," he added quietly as he watched Hawke inspect the next flight of steps like it was the first time he'd encountered such a thing. "It's... too soon after Danarius."

Hawke finally tackled the steps, creeping up them like he was expecting them to gave way under his feet any moment. "Well, you should have _said_," he huffed as he reached the top step and wavered, grabbing at Fenris' hand for balance. Fenris caught him in time and yanked him forward onto steadier ground. "We could have gotten drunk here and then I wouldn't have had to climb up those... those- _them_." He jabbed his finger at the stairs before wrapping an arm around Fenris's waist and all but melting on him with a heavy sigh. Fenris couldn't helping noting that Hawke was the same brand of dramatically miserable when he was drunk as the dog was when it realised he wasn't going to give it any of his food.

"Come on," he said, tightening his grip on Hawke and helping him stagger into his den. Hawke leaned on him contentedly, pleased that he didn't have to worry so much about his balance anymore. Fenris guided him to one of the benches on front of the fireplace and he sat down gratefully, yawning as Fenris settled on the other bench to watch him. After a while of the peaceful silence Fenris spoke. "Was Anders there?"

Hawke shook his head, seemingly unconcerned by the loaded question. "Naw, just Varric, Donnic and Isabela. Aveline dropped by for a bit, but she mostly just wanted to tell me off about something." He frowned at the floor. "I forget what I did though. Or maybe I didn't do anything. She tells me off for that too."

Fenris scoffed and lowered his head. "Indeed. I suppose trouble just finds you, regardless of your behaviour." Hawke nodded in solemn agreement before slowly climbing to his feet and moving to kneel in front of Fenris. Fenris blinked at him in confusion, but before he could question Hawke's behavious, the mage curled his arms around Fenris' waist and nuzzled into his lap.

"Hawke, what are you doing?" he asked, his alarm fading.

"I'm tired," Hawke replied, his voice muffled.

"But _that's_ not a pillow."

"Yes it is."

"No, it is not."

"Let's agree to disagree."

Fenris sighed and smiled despite himself. "Fine, but that doesn't change the fact that your head is heavy and it's squashing something that both of us value quite highly." No reply. "Hawke?" Still nothing. "You're asleep, aren't you?" Hawke's continued silence answered the question for him and Fenris shook his head as disapprovingly as he could. "Festis bei umo canavarum..." he murmured, running his fingers through Hawke's hair, the claws of his gauntlets scratching gently.

At least Varric wasn't around to witness it. Perhaps Hawke wasn't lying when he said every cloud has a silver lining.


	4. Chapter 4

"And Shartan said, 'It was my dream for the... the people to have a- a home of their... own? Where we would have no... masters but our- ourselves.'" Fenris said slowly, squinting at the page of the open book in front of him. Hawke sat cross-legged by his side in front of the fireplace in his bedroom, one arm hooked casually around Fenris as the elf struggled through a new passage of the Book of Shartan for the first time, without Hawke reading it for him first.

Turning his head to brush the tip of his nose against Fenris's ear, Hawke smiled. "You've really got it now. I'm proud of you."

Fenris huffed and gave Hawke an unimpressed look. "You're humouring me. Or mocking me. I can't tell which, nor do I know which I'd prefer."

"I'm doing neither," Hawke laughed, lifting his hand from Fenris' hip to stroke his hair briefly. "You're doing great. You stammer a bit still when you read out loud, but your pace is good for the most part. Just read something - anything - whenever you get the chance. Your main problem is your confidence but the more you practice, the more it will grow."

"I have confidence enough," Fenris replied, with a frown.

Hawke nodded. "Of course you do. When you're hitting things. You're still a little shaky with your reading though, whether you want to admit it or not-" Fenris opened his mouth to argue but Hawke quickly placed two fingers over his lips to silence him. The look of outrage on his face was delightful. "If it makes you feel better, I still can't pick up your sword without my arms crying in protest."

Still sullen, but slowly coming around, Fenris managed a small smile. "Very well. I suppose stammering when I read is less pathetic than holding the title of 'Champion of Kirkwall' and not being able to carry a blade."

"That's the spirit," Hawke said chipperly, giving Fenris a playful little punch in the arm, before suddenly scowling. "And for the record, I can carry _little_ blades."

"I'll pretend to be impressed to spare your pride," Fenris said, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a smirk. Before Hawke could even pretend to be offended, however, there was a knock at the bedroom door and a soft, slightly awkward cough. They both recognised the voice immediately, and when Hawke turned his head to look at Anders, Fenris turned away to stare irritably at the book.

Anders shifted his weight uncertainly before pulling himself together. "I'm sorry Hawke, I don't mean to intrude-"

"Its fine, Anders. We were just reading."

There was a considerable pause. "Both of you?" Anders asked, glancing at Fenris out of the corner of his eye. There was a faint undercurrent of snideness to his tone, and Fenris picked up on it. He huffed angrily and Hawke touched his hand as subtley as he could to calm him. It worked but only barely and Hawke braced himself for any coming arguments. Maker knows Anders and Fenris couldn't be in the same room for long without bickering. It certainly made their adventures... memorable. For all the wrong reasons.

Turning back to Anders, he gave the other mage a gently scolding glare in warning. "Is something wrong, Anders?" Hawke asked quickly, trying to head any arguments off before they could take root.

"I was hoping to talk to you about something." He glanced at Fenris. "In private." Hawke picked up on the edge of nervousness in his tone, and he wasn't the only one. Like the predator he arguably was, Fenris turned to look at Anders, leaning into Hawke heavily as he did so. Apparently nothing short of outright plastering himself to Hawke's side was enough right now to satisfy Fenris' need to remind Anders he'd missed his chance.

"I can't imagine what you have to say to him that you won't say with me here," he said, his tone rippling with unspoken accusations. "You've never had any trouble speaking of your reckless crusade in my presence before."

Anders folded his arms and looked away. "It's personal."

Already knowing what conclusion he would draw from that, Hawke squeezed Fenris's shoulders reassuringly and stood up, aiming to get Anders out of the room and away from Fenris before an argument broke out. "Alright, you just... keep reading, Fenris. I'll be right back." The look Fenris gave him in response was... icy to say the least, but Hawke shrugged helplessly. It was hard being stuck between his lover and his closest friend, but he needed to make time for each. As he walked out of the room with Anders, he silently hoped Fenris wouldn't be too angry at him. That man could hold grudges like no one he'd ever seen before.

Padding down the stairs beside Anders and ushering him into the study, Hawke forced an awkward little smile as he watched Anders walk over to fireplace and stare up at the statue above it. "Listen, I know you two don't get along... at all. Ever. But I would really appreciate it if you could try to, I don't know, goad him less? I'm having a hard enough time as it is talking him into at least tolerating our way of thinking. I'm not asking you to like him, but just... please. As a favour to me.

Anders didn't look away from the statue immediately. Instead he raised his shoulders slightly, the feathers ruffling a little at the movement. "I do try, Hawke. I don't mean to make things difficult for you." He turned his gaze to Hawke. "He's just _frustrating_. Surely even you can see what a hypocrite he is."

"I know what you're saying," Hawke said, raising his hands placatingly and crossing the distance between them. "I do, but... I suppose I can see where he's coming from. You have to admit that from where he's standing, what you're aiming for-" Anders winced, "-what _we're_ aiming for does seem a lot like it could lead to another Imperium. I understand why that would frighten him and why he'd oppose it."

"But you don't agree with him, do you?" Anders asked. His tone was so desperate for support that it broke Hawke's heart a little. He moved closer to his friend and placed his hands on his shoulders.

"No, I don't. I see where he's coming from, and I understand his reasons for thinking the way he does but... I can't stand by and let one injustice continue on the off-chance that stopping it might someday lead to a different injustice." He smiled crookedly and gave a lopsided shrug. "If I thought like that, I'd never get anything done."

Anders blinked, then laughed sheepishly, glancing down at the floor between them and shuffling his feet. "Good. I'm glad. Sometimes..." He nibbled his lower lip and glanced into the fire. "Sometimes I think you're the only thing keeping me sane. I don't think I could do this without your support."

"Well, that's not something you need to worry about," Hawke said, softly. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise, you can always rely on me to keep you from losing yourself."

Lifting his eyes to meet Hawke's, Anders smiled, but it wasn't a happy expression. He lifted his hand and settled it momentarily over the one of Hawke's that still rested on his shoulder. Hawke's skin prickled as a sudden rush of uneasiness broke over him.

"If I'm not already lost."


End file.
